Data heist symptoms
by AshtonCat
Summary: John Carlyle is saved by a woman, and determined to return the favor.
1. Chapter 1

I just didn't like Carlyle's ending, so I wrote this. Why not share it with other people who felt like crying after seeing him die? ;) enjoy, peeps!

She had no idea if it had been their intention to kill him. But from what she could see during the attack, they didn't try very hard to keep him alive. It took long, very long, before everyone was gone and she could finally run over to see if he was still breathing. John Carlyle, CEO of Armadyne, was fading rapidly. Once his wounds were treated by a befriended doctor, who promised to keep the CEO's presence on earth confidential, he was given a place to rest at her home. All she could do now.. was wait.

There was a soothing voice speaking to him through the pain and his struggle to breathe. He did not recognize the voice though, and that frightened him. He must have whimpered, cause the soothing words turned even softer.

"It's okay, it's okay"

It certainly wasn't okay in his mind right now. His head pounded painfully from the data heist, and his memories of the event resembled soup more than clear lines. He inhaled sharply when he felt a sting in his arm. Were they still not done with him? He struggled to break free from the pain, but he was held firmly into place.

"Keep him still"

"Calm down, John. It's just a painkiller"

Warmth flooded through him as he felt the intravenous liquid numb his aching body and he slightly relaxed. Without the pain he could focus on other things, like getting his head cleared out and figuring out where he was. He couldn't be on Elysium, for they didn't do intravenous treatments there. He would have been laying in one of the medical beds.

"drink this"

Before he could protest, he felt a glass against his lips and he had no other choice but to gulp down whatever they offered him. It was only tea and he sighed in relief.

"Don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you"

The voice said and he was about to relax and rest a little when he heard the clattering of surgical instruments. He panicked and started struggling again. The hot air that hit his bare skin smelled thickly of blood and sweat. Were they going to operate on him?! What did they expect to find inside his body?! He knew earth citizens had wild stories going around about what was inside an Elysium citizen.

"I'm going to have to sedate him if he keeps thrashing around like this. He's amazingly strong for someone in his condition. Damn mutants.."

"Lay still, John! I'm trying to help you!"

"But y..you are hurting me!"

His raspy voice had made an impression, because the hands stopped touching him and for a moment all he could hear was his heavy laboured breathing. "And you said you wouldn't" he continued, feeling exhausted from the loss of blood.

To his surprise, he felt a hand smooth the hair back that was plastered against his forehead. All done with a gentleness he wasn't at all familiar with, but it certainly couldn't come from the people that had stolen his brain data.

"Some of it will hurt, I admit. But you need help, John. You're not out of the woods yet. I cannot help you when you're so nervous, so forgive me for this" the voice spoke and he felt another sting in his arm. Immediately his brain started to shut down and his eyelids started feeling as heavy as bricks. He felt himself slip away into darkness.

"you're too good for the world, Mira. Now what are you going to do with him? You think he'll be thankful or something? Give us tickets up there?"

"he might not even live. He lost so much blood. And look at his brain activity, if he doesn't calm down he won't survive for sure"

Voices, the same two, hurting his sensitive head. He had welcomed the silence and wished it would have stayed with him a little longer. But he was waking up and he knew it. Breathing was a little easier, and the wound was numbed into oblivion. He felt warm and sleepy, like he just spend an hour soaking in a hot bath. He shifted and tried to change his position, but he agitated his wound and moaned in pain.

The hand that had soothed him earlier came back to his hair and he calmed, intrigued and curious. He knew that hand wouldn't hurt him by now, it only played with his hair, whatever for he didn't know. And it belonged to someone with a very gentle voice that had spoken to him earlier before he fell asleep.

"How are you feeling, John?" The voice asked.

"sleepy.."

Silence

"Head hurts.."

The hand was moved away for a moment and he wondered if the owner thought his head was hurting because of it. But it soon returned with something blissfully cool against his forehead.

"the pain won't be permanent, but it'll stay for a while longer. Your brain got a little fried" the voice laughed a little. Was it funny? Apparently so, people from Earth always seemed to have a strange sense of humor.

"will you stay with me? If I fall asleep again?" he asked, not wanting to be alone. He was scared. His attackers might come back if they found out he was still alive. He didn't know if it had been their intention to kill him. From what he remembered, they had seemed rather panicked at the sight of his wound. Fingers curled around his hand and gave him a small squeeze.

"I'll be here"

With that promise, he allowed himself to lose consciousness once more.

Something clattered to the floor and made the most loud shattering ruckus he had ever experienced in his life. He shot into an upright position and immediately regretted it as gravity pushed down on his broken ribs and the pain returned full force. He yelped and clutched at his bandaged torso. A cat sprinted out of the room, she had pushed some pans off a cupboard. Looking down he saw the white linen wrappings turn dark red.

"Oh no.. help! Please.. someone!"

There was someone at his side within a second and through his panic he could finally see the owner of the voice and the hand that had steadily brought him back to the world of the living. She was young and dressed in a simply shirt and a pair of dirty, ripped jeans. Usually, he wasn't very fond of people from Earth. They seemed vile and unusually aggressive. This woman hadn't displayed any aggression yet though.

With skilled hands she started unwrapping the stained linen and pressed a rolled up ball of cotton against the bleeding wound. It had been stitched, but he had agitated it with his abrupt movements. He couldn't keep his steel blue eyes off her face, so intrigued to find out what his caretaker from Earth looked like. She noticed his curious gaze and smiled at him while wrapping his wound in clean linen.

"well good afternoon to you too. I'm glad to see you finally up" she said.

"who are you?" he asked and flinched when she pulled the linen a little tighter around his chest.

"I'm sorry. My name is Mira. I know who you are, John Carlyle"

He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Most Earth citizens didn't particularly like him since he could be a ruthless boss in their eyes. He didn't have droids for protection for nothing.

"what are you going to do with me, Mira?"

His cold, blue eyes stared into her brown ones. She could see he was scared, even though he tried to look as impassive as possible. It was no surprise to her, he had been full of fear every time he had been awake.

"Don't worry. I'll find a way to contact Elysium and you'll be on your way home in no time. Right now though, you're not fit for travel and I can't leave you alone for too long" she said.

At that news he slowly lay back down, feeling suddenly exhausted and dizzy. He stared up at the fan hanging from the ceiling, blowing welcome cool air his way. Earth was a truly disgusting place, but right now he would sell his company to keep this bed. He noticed Mira staring at him with sympathy but didn't touch him anymore. She had done so before, so what happened?

"My head hurts" he spoke quietly, closing his eyes against the stinging pain. "why does it hurt so much? What did they do? It shouldn't hurt like this" he sounded almost angry.

He had heard about brain data heists before. They weren't supposed to be excruciatingly painful, just a little uncomfortable. Unless they were performed in a clumsy matter, which probably had been the case in his situation.

"You want something for the pain? I could inject what the doctor prescribed" she offered, but he shook his head lightly.

"can you do.. what you did before? with your hand? It helped" he sounded absolutely miserable and almost on the verge of tears. He just wanted the pain to go. They had done a terrible job. He was afraid to find out what damage they had caused inside his head.

He felt her fingers run through his hair instantly and he calmed down. It felt so wonderful to be tenderly touched after the rough treatment he had received. He wasn't a man who got touched very often. He wasn't married and didn't hold any relationships that involved touching. Not because he wanted it to be like this, but he simply had no time to fool with it.

She watched as his chest started rising in a more slow, even tempo and smiled in sympathy. A touch seemed to give him a sense of safety, strangely enough.

"Thank you. That really does help" he said weakly, his eyes closed and an expression of relief on his pale face. She brought the covers up to his chin when he started to shiver and continued her gentle ministrations until he had fallen asleep.

There were no thunderstorms in Elysium. But the ones on Earth could be frightening, especially in areas with a particularly dry and hot climate. When the high clouds of drought collided with the lower atmosphere from cooler areas, thunder could be seen down on the planet. It had always been a fascinating sight for any Elysium citizen.

But to suddenly hear a clap of thunder in the middle of the night was a completely new experience and he wasn't sure he liked it. His eyes shot open at the first sound rolling through the sky. It was dark around him, the darkness of night. The girl Mira was gone and he was all alone. The cat that had been the cause of the ruckus earlier that day lay on the foot end of the bed, curled up in fluffy ball.

Deciding he was thirsty and needed to use the bathroom, he slowly started moving out of bed. He shivered when his bare feet touched the cold floor, he hadn't even realized he didn't have his pants on anymore. All that was left of his clothing were his shorts. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to keep warm and very slowly made his way out of the small bedroom. Which, he later realized, was in fact a storage room.

The pounding in his head seemed to get worse when he was standing upright. But eventually he found the kitchen and was able to drink a glass of water. And another one. He was parched. Now all he needed to do was find the bathroom and then he could go back to his bed. He had started to shiver violently from cold as he moved through the house, supporting himself on the walls and pieces of furniture. He found the bathroom and after using it, took a look at himself in the cracked mirror above the sink.

He looked like he had been dragged out of his early grave. His normally so neat hair was a mess and his face looked grey with dark circles around his eyes. The pounding in his head was getting worse and he knew he had to lie down again. He got out of the bathroom and bumped into something soft.

"Oh! John! You scared me.. what are you doing out of bed?" the girl asked and looked up at him with a kind smile.

"I had to.. " he stopped, embarrassed. He leaned against the doorpost for support, but it wouldn't hold him up for very long anymore. He could feel his knees beginning to protest. Before he realized it, she had her arms wrapped around his waist, careful as to not touch his wound.

"Let's get you back into bed"

"I was thirsty" he explained as they began their walk back to his bed.

"I'm sorry, I should have left a glass of water on your nightstand. I thought you'd sleep right through the night"

"Mira?"

"yes, John?"

"I think there's something very wrong inside my head"

She gently lowered him down to sit on the side of his bed and wrapped one of the blankets around his trembling shoulders. She turned on the lamp on his nightstand and looked at her frightened charge, who seemed ready to get a panic attack.

She took his face in her hands and looked at him. "Scans were done on your brains. No permanent damage was detected. But it was done in a very clumsy and cruel way, the doctor wasn't surprised to find some temporary damage. But it'll heal with time, I promise you" she told him.

He seemed unconvinced but more than willing to lean into her touch, his eyes closed. "I need to go to Elysium. They could fix it in a heartbeat. Please, just let me go" he begged.

She felt horrible and sat down next to him on the bed. "I'm not restraining you. But not everyone is like me out here. I don't want too many people knowing about your vulnerable position. You're exhausted, John. Come and lay down"

Slowly, he did as he was told, feeling more than happy to lay down again. She tucked him in and placed another quilt over his legs. "I'm trying to keep you safe" she whispered.

He didn't understand this woman's motives at all. At great lengths and risk she tried to protect him even though they didn't know each other. She seemed to know him, so maybe they had met in the past. And as usual, he hadn't cared to remember her name or face. "why?" he asked wearily.

"Because I witnessed everything they did and I couldn't bear watching it without doing anything. If I had left you there, you would have died and your body would have been discovered. Lord knows what they would have done to you" she explained, but he shook his head.

"That makes..no sense at all" he mumbled, getting agitated.

"I don't enjoy cruelty. My brother works for your company and according to him you're a cold arrogant asshole with hardly any human feelings. He thinks Elysium citizens are more like aliens from old movies than citizens of the future"

He stared at her with an empty expression. He was no alien. A cold arrogant asshole, maybe, but no alien. And what of it? Playing nice didn't do anyone much good in the business world he came from.

"No human feelings, hm?" he mumbled and looked away from her. Sweat was trickling down his face from exhaustion and stress. He didn't exactly enjoy being called a heartless bastard.

"But I know he's wrong. Cause I've seen another side of you" she said and they locked eyes again. She reached out and smoothed his hair back, carefully running her fingers through his soft brown strands. He instantly relaxed and closed his piercing blue eyes, as in surrender.

"You might miss this when you're healed and back home. Maybe you'll even try to be nice to someone every once in a while, in the hope that she might do it for you too" she whispered softly.

"I will miss it" he admitted. He usually wasn't one to allow others to touch him, especially not in such an intimate way. But her touch felt almost like healing. His head stopped hurting and his fear left his body whenever she ran her fingers through his hair. He would miss it for sure. He wasn't a stranger to nasty headaches. There was medication enough on Elysium, and they worked fine. But he rather saw it disappear through her method.

"Maybe I'll ask you to do it again in the future. Would you accept?" he asked, half asleep.

"Of course, John. Get some sleep now, alright?"

"Stay in this disgusting place just to have you play with my hair. What a foolish plan. Yes I'll sleep, I'll sleep"

His body went limp and his breathing evened out, but she only left his side when she felt herself grow weary and her fingers started cramping up. It would be a good few hours till the sun would come up.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When he woke up again he was happy to find her at his bedside doing exactly what he wanted her to do. Rub his head to keep the pain away. She wasn't paying attention to him and didn't notice he was awake. Instead, she was typing away with one hand on the oldest laptop he had ever seen in his entire life. She pressed enter and he felt a sting in the back of his head. He flinched and that caught her attention.

"Lay still now. It's almost over" she spoke. He was confused. What was she doing to him? when his vision cleared up he could see a black cable connecting the laptop to the chip in his head.

"what are you doing to me?" he asked weakly, dreading the answer. She looked up at him and smiled softly. That kind smile she had given him before. The smile that had made him feel safe and secure.

"trying to get rid of the brain spaghetti. It's a mess in there. Do you feel any difference?" she asked.

"No! get it out of me.. get it out.." he started struggling and tugging on the cable, but she grabbed his hand. "John, John! Don't do that.. you'll hurt yourself. Let me disconnect you properly… here" she typed a few things down and the cable disconnected itself and fell beside him on the pillow. He relaxed and stared at her with an offended expression, feeling almost as violated as before. He reached up to feel the chip in his head and found the wound left from the heist. Right behind his ear, a deep cut.

His hand was moved away and something wet and cool was being held against the place of the chip. He looked up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry, john" she said. "I just thought I might be able to help you"

"I'm..jumpy" he mumbled apologetically.

"With good reason"

"No.. I've always been like that. It's.. it's not your fault. I just don't want anymore.. cables inside my brain"

Her hand found its way to his hair again and he sighed when the feeling of relaxation washed over him. He was definitely going to miss this treatment.

"Alright, John. I understand and I'm sorry. It's alright now"

He wondered if Delacourt had any idea of his whereabouts, and if she would even try to find him. The damn woman had never been very amiable, and he always looked at their annual meetings as a dreaded obligation. Her hand was pulled back from his head when a knock came to the front door.

"That would be my brother." Mira said and got up from the side of the bed. "I'll apologize in advance of what he's going to say to you. I called him a few hours ago when you were sleeping. I thought he might be able to help."

Fantastic, more fans. Just what he needed. An audience with another satisfied employee. Now his brain felt somewhat cleared up, he remembered the face of the young man that stole his brain data. Along with some of his friends, no doubt, all of them unknown to him. But the young man's name.. was Max. He had had an accident at the factory the other day. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized the looming figure standing at the footend of his bed. A tattooed dangerous looking young man, his arms crossed over his chest. Unmistakably wearing the Armadyne work overall.

"We missed you at work today.. boss." He said, the last word spat out mockingly. "seems like you got yourself busted up huh?"

Giving Mira an uncertain quick look, John cleared his throat and tried to sit up a little, an attempt to look atleast a little dignified in the presence of one of his workers.

"Yes. I want you to do something for me. If it wouldn't be too much trouble." He said, but the young man just laughed and peered at his sister. "Can you believe this? That fucknut doesn't even bother to ask me my name. See? I told you he was like that. Feels too good for anything.. "

John felt himself roll his eyes, a gesture that wasn't met with much kindness either as the young man bared his teeth for a moment and walked up to his bedside. "Listen here, you rich son of a bitch. I'm not planning on doing anything for your sorry ass until you tell me that I can pack my bags and leave for Elysium with my sister. Alright?"

The CEO stared at the young man in utter disbelief. "I.. I can't promise that!" He never stuttered, but these terms sounded so ridiculous, it just took the words right out of his mouth. "That isn't up to me. I don't run Homeland Security."

"Ohh, you hear that, Mira? He doesn't run Homeland Security. You dragged the wrong Elysium bitch into the house. Well then you're useless to me.. John fucking Carlyle. And I've got nothing more to say to you." The young man spat and turned to leave. The disappointed look John received from Mira rendered him even more unable to keep up his stoic role.

"No, wait! Please. What is your name?"

He could have sworn he saw Mira hint the smallest of smiles at that point, and that pleased him more than he would ever admit. But the tactic seemed to work and the young gangster turned to face him once again.

"Dean. Dean Sullivan." He said. The CEO extended his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Dean accepted.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sullivan. I'm John Carlyle. I think.. if you help me. I can put in a good word for you with our Defence Secretary, would that be enough? Once again, I cannot make any promises. "

Dean nodded, a little unsure of what was happening. "Yea man, you tell that bitch I helped you. Now what do you want?" A little kindness went along way, John thought amused. Something that must have rubbed off from Mira's kind treatment of him. There was no reason to be rude to her brother after all she had done for him anyway. He could already imagine Delacourt's shocked expression at hearing his explanation of what had happened and exactly what kind of earth citizen he was recommending to her. But all that were problems to be dealt with later.

"I need you to contact Elysium for me. I'm bedridden unfortunately, but it is vital that I return as soon as possible. I wasn't attacked for no reason. I cannot explain to you why as that information I classified. There is a computer in the foreman's office on the main floor that holds a way to communicate directly with Elysium. All you need to do is explain the situation to your foreman and he'll show you how to use the program."

Dean stared at him, wide eyed. And then started laughing nervously. "I don't know, man. That foreman is an asshole. I don't think he would believe me. Besides don't you have this freaky medical implant you can use?"

John didn't know the foreman personally. He only vaguely remembered the man on the day Max had his accident. Explaining to him what had happened. He had ordered the foreman to fire Max and get him out of his factory. He shot an uncertain look at a curious and innocent looking Mira. She didn't know half of how much of a heartless bastard she saved. He reached up feel the medical implant. It was unresponsive to his thoughts, touch and probably calls from Elysium.

"I fear the heist damaged it somehow. If it was still working, they would have located me already and I wouldn't be here anymore. I would be grateful if you'd help me, Mr. Sullivan." John said.

"Yea well don't go throwing around the gratitude thing too much. You're going to pay me for doing that, rich boy!" Dean threatened, pointing a tattooed finger at the wounded CEO.

"Fine.." The Elysium citizen snapped back, getting tired of this little gangster with the brain capacity of a squirrel. "How much?"

Dean laughed and shook his head, giving his silent sister a quick look. "Is he fucking kidding me, Mira? It doesn't matter what I ask. He's so stinking rich. This man.. This very man! Bought the planet. He basically fucking bought the fucking planet. That shitty fucked up blue ball that fucks up your view from the window everytime you take a shit. Isn't that right, Carlyle?"

Getting used to his vile language and aggressive attitude, John sighed impatiently. "How much?"

Dean sniffed, shifted his weight and looked around as if he was embarrassed for what he was about to ask. "I want a million dollars in cash. In a little fucking leather suitcase with my name on it." He said.

A million dollars, really? The urge to tell the young man that if a million dollars would fall out of John's pockets, he wouldn't care to turn around and pick it back up. It was nothing, and it proved yet again that Mira inherited all the brain cells in the family, leaving Dean with none to work with.

"Fine." John shrugged and flinched when he hurt his chest. "I expect you can have this done by tomorrow? I take it you're coming back from your shift?"

"I'm back on tonight. I work night shifts in your 24/7 factory as well as day shifts. Because the pay is so fucking bad I can't get my kids through fucking school if I wouldn't work my ass off like that. Your paycheques suck, Carlyle. But we have a deal. One Million. And the suitcase?" Dean said.

This time Mira interfered. She had seen quite enough. Her brother needed to state his opinion, and he had every right to do so. She knew all about the conditions he had to work in and the young children he had to provide for. But leather suitcases didn't make any difference in that situation.

"Dean, stop being childish. Why would it matter in what container the money was brought to you? Be glad you're going to get it. I think it's time for you to go, he needs rest." She said. The CEO was grateful for her help and tried to thank her with a reassuring smile, indicating that he felt alright. The gesture was interpreted the wrong way by her brother who narrowed his eyes at the wounded man.

"Are you getting fucking sweet on my sister now? Is that what's going on here?" Dean said and took a step in his direction. "I don't care where you come from, or how rich you are or whoever the fuck your friends in high places are.. this is my little fucking sister.. and if you touch her.. I'm going to make sure I get the right boys to handle you. And I'll sell your ass to whoever's willing to pay the jackpot. Am I clear, Carlyle?"

"Charming." John sneered arrogantly. "I can assure you, Mr. Sullivan. I didn't volunteer to be here. I don't enjoy it any more than you do. No matter the company."

Dean huffed and turned to his mildly alarmed looking sister. "Keep an eye on this fucknut. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon." With no other words of goodbye, the young man left. The CEO leaned back into his pillows, feeling exhausted from the ordeal. Because of his exceptionally high immune system, he was a fast healer, but he still needed rest. Mira sat down on the side of his bed and gave him a small smile.

"You alright?" she asked.

He nodded slowly and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. "I'm very tired. I'd like to rest now."

Perhaps his answer had sounded a little too cross, for she didn't respond. She tucked him in wordlessly and left him to rest. He didn't have much time to regret his tone before he fell asleep.

He dreamed about the faces of his attackers. His memory of the whole event returning to him in their full extent now his brain was healing. He also dreamed about his last talk with Delacourt. She had confided in him about her secret ambitions and even bribed him into helping her execute them. He couldn't care less about who was president of the thing he build himself, all he wanted was to secure the future of his company.

When he woke up again, it was dark and the faint noises of a television erupted from the livingroom. Feeling rested and the need to apologize for his earlier tone, he decided to get out of his bed, wrap one of the blankets around himself and face his young savior. Who hadn't failed to bestow her kindness on him once. She sat huddled in a quilt with a bowl of popcorn in front of the glowing screen and looked up in mild surprise when he appeared in the doorway.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her mouth full of the buttery snack.

"No.. I mean yes.. I.. May I sit down?" He said, pointing at the seat next to her. She nodded vigorously and removed the bowl, creating room for him. For a while, they simply sat there, side by side, both wrapped in their individual quilts. He looked around the small livingroom. He hadn't been able to before in his state of delirium, and eventhough it was dark, he could make out the colourful wallpaper, a different one on each wall. Mismatching furniture and almost ancient kitchen appliances.

His attention was drawn to the television for a brief moment. She had been watching the news. Forest fires. What else was new?

"Are you feeling a bit better?"

He looked up when he heard her question. Her eyes showing nothing but kindness and now also worry. He nodded to reassure her. "The talk I had with your brother simply wore me out. I just needed to rest." He explained. She nodded in understanding and smiled.

"You'll be sleeping in your own bed soon, don't worry. This must look like an absolute dump to you, doesn't it?" she chuckled, but it was without joy. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He didn't want her to think he was ungrateful, much less unkind or impolite about her living facilities.

"Well.." He started carefully, letting his cold eyes roam the room once more. She made an unamused face at his antics and huffed in annoyance.

"I don't need your judgement, Mister Carlyle." She shot at him.

"I was going to say I find your home very welcoming. But that is more credited to its owner than the way it looks, I think."

She blinked at him for a moment, surprised at his words no doubt. "Thank you. What does your home look like?" she asked. He shifted a little, making himself more comfortable and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes, feeling safe enough to do so, and contemplated his answer for a moment.

"Very white and spacious. I don't spend much time there. I spend more time on earth than I do at home. Maybe that is not a very desirable trait to entertain, but my work simply won't allow me much time away from my office."

She reached out to gently comb his hair back and he couldn't resist a small sigh of pleasure. No Med bed in the world could give him the feeling she gave him when she touched him like this. He had hoped she wouldn't cease her ministrations once he would start showing signs of recovery and get more talkative. It didn't seem to alter her ways at all. He was about to doze off once more, when he voice called him back from his almost slumber.

"Are you hungry? I could order a pizza or something."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her suggestion of cuisine. He wasn't very hungry, and he didn't think pizza would be a very wise choice to eat right now. Much less a nutritious choice. But he didn't want to be rude to her. After all, she had saved his life when no one else cared if he lived or not.

"Pizza sounds great."

She smiled at his answer and jumped up from the couch. "Good! Let me get my phone." She skipped out of the livingroom, like they had both just decided to adopt a puppy together. He closed his eyes again to get a few more minutes of repose, but she returned just as quickly and happily.

"what kind would you like?" she asked, handing him a fold out of a grungy looking take out restaurant. Oh boy, one without food poisoning would be great, he mused silently. He looked at the pictures of the various types of pizza's. When did pizza with meatballs make its entry into this foul world anyway? It probably tasted as bad as it looked, if not worse.

"You pick one.." He said, handing back the fold out. "Something light would be fine. I can't say I have a lot of experience with pizza. Atleast not in the last 20 years."

"Really?" she giggled. "My god, what have you been living on up there? I couldn't live without pizza. If they don't have pizza on Elysium, I chose earth." She smirked at him proudly and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. "Pizza Margarita for John Carlyle coming up then!" she walked away, leaving him behind with an amused expression on his still pale face.

He listened to her ordering the meal in the adjoining room and wondered if he was expected to set anything up for their little dinner party. The coffee table looked good enough. Unless she wanted to eat at the dinner table, which was clobbered with boxes and stacks of laundry. Not wanting to be useless while she was arranging dinner, he reached out to replace a stack of fold outs from several stores and companies laying on the coffee table in an attempt to create room for the pizza boxes. A medical fold out fell to the carpeted floor and he reached down to pick it up.

 _Living with lung cancer and what to expect._

He blinked at the sheet of paper. Two happily smiling elderly people on the front cover. As if the disease only claimed those who had had their whole life behind them. He looked up when he caught her gazing at him in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Are you ill?" He inquired softly, holding up the fold out. She grabbed it from him roughly and shoved it into the drawer of a messy looking desk, slamming it shut.

"It's none of your business." She said. "Pizza will be here soon."

"I can help you." He offered stoically, but she shook her head quickly.

"I don't want your help. I'm fine. It's stage one. I'm on Miporol.. I'll be fine. Nobody knows yet.. Not even my brother. " she gazed at his collected expression, almost void of any emotion. "I have a 65% chance of survival. That's pretty damn good." She continued, folding her arms across her chest.

He looked away from her defiant stare and sighed. He wouldn't force her, nor was he someone to beg. If she didn't want his help, then fine. So be it.

"The offer stands anyway." He stated matter of factly.

After a moment of silence she slowly sat back down next to him on the couch, gazing at the glowing screen of her old television. A game show was on, one that nobody ever watches, yet survived for years. She rubbed her arms as if she suddenly felt cold and swallowed thickly.

"The day before I found you, I was diagnosed. I haven't quite gotten used to the idea yet. I'm sorry.. It's a lot to take." She spoke softly. "I thought I just had a chest cold that didn't stop bothering me."

He was silent. He could have talked about the invention of the Med Pods, but he knew she knew about their existence. He had offered to help her, but he had spoken impulsively, something he hardly ever did. Cause how to get her to Elysium without getting berated by Homeland Security he didn't know. He even took Delacourt able enough to send that vile agent after his shuttle should he try to take Mira home with him. Then again, he build the whole thing, he could do whatever he wanted with it. He ran that show, no matter what the government told itself.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed she had scooted closer to him and was leaning against his arm. He looked down at her tearstained face, almost buried into the blanket he had wrapped around himself. Very gingerly, he moved his arm away and she sat up quickly, muttering her apologies.

"It's alright. You may lean against me if it offers you comfort." He spoke stiffly, not at all used to these sort of situations. But she had offered him comfort when he needed it, and so he would return the favour. He moved his arm around her as she leaned against his side, mindful of his wound. Together they watched the widely despised game show, the volume on a near mute. Two wounded strangers that had found solace in eachother's company, awaiting a meal that cost more lives per year than cancer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He had listened to the sirens outside long after the young woman's breathing had evened out, indicating she had fallen asleep. His gaze was still fixed on the glowing tv screen, going from game shows back to the news, until a sharp knock on the front door startled the both of them.

"Pizza.." Mira mumbled, untangling herself from the warm spot against his wounded side. He watched her stumble to the hallway, cursing to herself while trying to straighten her dark hair. The interaction with the delivery man was brief and soon she returned with two steaming boxes. The scent of freshly made pizza filling the dimly lit room. She placed the boxes on the coffee table.

"You want a beer?" she offered, rubbing the sleep from her glassy, tired looking eyes. "Or is alcohol a no go area on Elysium?"

"Quite the contrary." He replied, causing her to chuckle as she walked to her kitchen. He squinted at the bright light of the opened fridge and was momentarily blinded when she closed its door again. She handed him the cold, wet bottle and clanked her own against it.

"To dying before our time, John." She spoke, and took a deep swig. He waited a few seconds, not sure he wanted to make such a toast with the person that had saved his life. But the prospect of having some alcohol into his nerve wrecked system was too tempting, and he took his own big gulp of the ice cold beverage. He felt it sink down mercilessly into his empty stomach.

A few days ago, he wouldn't have believed the person telling him he'd be eating pizza in his underwear on a pre-Elysium looking sofa, in a house that had seen some shit. His shorts had probably costed more than her rent. But the whole situation had something painfully human about it, reminding him all the more they were not so different. All that stood between the two of them, was a few billion dollars. Alright, a lot of billion dollars..

And bless his soul, the pizza was pre-cut. So there was service on Earth after all.

She giggled watching him struggle with the first slice, dropping most of the toppings on the floor. He usually snapped at people laughing at him, if they ever found a reason to. But her laugh was contagious and made him chuckle at his own clumsiness. He knew he was a sight to see. And she hadn't even seen him at his best. He wondered if he should tell her about all the times he dropped his coffee on his lap, his desk or worse.. his keyboard. Wonderful starts to a busy day at work. Even more so for his secretary, who'd be send to Elysium to get him a clean suit.

"I'm not used to eating with my hands.." He apologized.

"I can see that." She chuckled, showing no mercy.

She had switched channels to something of a movie he didn't recognize. Not that he watched many movies. From what he could see it was a lot of car chases and explosions. She had thankfully chosen not to turn on the volume.

To his own surprise, he wolfed down the pizza as if he hadn't had a meal in weeks, and only finished it when there were six empty bottles of beer standing on the coffee table. He was convinced she was trying to drink him under the table. It all looked like a perfect student housing community to him. Reminding him much of his days as a Stanford college student. Feeling satisfied from the rich meal, and relaxed from the amount of alcohol, he leaned back into the cushions, paying only half attention to the dumb movie. It seemed once again the humans were victorious over some sort of alien invasion. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them, as if they were old friends, having known eachother for years.

From the corner of his eyes he watched her take one of the Miporal pills, flushing it down with the last swig from a nearly empty bottle of beer. You really weren't supposed to drink alcohol with those. But come to think of it, he had probably done the same in her situation. Feeling his stare, she looked up at him impassively.

"what?" she asked.

"Nothing.." He answered. "I'm just trying to decipher your motives for not accepting my help. We can fix this in three minutes. No one has to know about it. Why won't you accept?"

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head defiantly. "And live the rest of my life among people who did not have that option? I can't do that, John. The guilt would kill me. And no Med Bay could fix that."

He had nothing to say to that. He was long passed the feelings of guilt, if he ever had any. The world was a very unfair place. There was nothing he could do about that. And even if there was, he didn't think he'd be willing to do it. If that meant he wasn't a good person, then so be it. He stared at the television screen, the hero of the story holding the woman he saved from the clutches of the alien creatures. Such heroes didn't exist in this world. Nothing was as simple as pure good or pure evil. There was no black and white. Only grey.

"You're welcome to come to my funeral." She chuckled, but stopped when she caught him rolling his eyes in irritation. Death wasn't funny. Death was an ugly phenomenon he spend years of doing research on trying to beat it. And he had succeeded in that for a very big part.

"Do you know how old I am?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the television. A new movie had started. Good Lord, were there actually people watching this night after night? Movie after movie?

"Too old for me.." she said and watched in amusement as he laughed dryly. He looked a lot less stern and cold when he was smiling. His eyes would get something very endearing and almost kind.

"I was born in 2010.." he said, looking at her with a smug smile. "Now I might not look as young as you do, but I have to say.. I look alright for 145 years old."

She was silent, gazing at him in almost disbelief. It was something she found hard to understand. But the world had changed a lot in a very short time. She remembered her grandmother's stories about a world long lost. Time stood still in the poor neighbourhood she grew up in, and the technological improvement always seemed something so far away, too far for her to grasp or understand. And she had long given up trying to catch up with it. The world was getting more divided each day, and people like her just had to accept they were at the bottom of the food chain.

"So your parents..?" she inquired softly.

"Sadly deceased. Out of pure stubbornness much like your own. They were people of religion, you see. Accusing me of playing God. They refused my help.. just like you." He replied dryly, seemingly undisturbed. It was, after all, a long time ago.

"I don't think humans were meant to live so long. Are our brains even capable of coping with that?" she asked.

"Some are, some aren't. But our mental capacity can be modified."

She leaned back against the headrest of the sofa, gazing at him while he rested with his eyes closed. She knew he was tired, yet he was willing to answer every question she had. But the more she asked, the less she knew it seemed. Somehow, she felt privileged to have the designer behind Elysium sitting next to her on her old, dusty couch. No matter how much of an asshole he was.

"You know why else I'd never go to Elysium?" She said.

"Why?"

"I'm scared of heights."

He smiled, amused at her little confession. "That could be a problem, yes." He chuckled. For the second time he felt her scoot closer to him and lean against his side. And again, he wrapped his arm around her. No words were needed. She found comfort in the sound of his steady heartbeat, and the warmth that radiated from his body. No matter what the outcome would be of this situation, and it was likely they'd never meet again, it would leave an impression on the both of them.

 **Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee**

He awoke in the early hours of the morning, curled up on the couch on his side, the blanket still wrapped around himself. But Mira was no longer beside him. He heard the shower run in the bathroom and slowly moved into a sitting position. The throbbing in his head was significantly less than the previous days, but now heavy with the long forgotten sensation of a hangover. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to smooth back his unruly hair, maybe a shower was a good idea for him as well. If he would return home today, he rather not arrive looking like he spend a week sleeping under a bridge.

Hopefully Mira's brother would be successful in his attempt to contact Elysium today. A little unsteady, he got to his feet, causing his stomach to turn in uneasiness. He searched the house for the remains of his clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. He had been in his underwear for days, there was no use getting embarrassed about it now anyway. He collected the empty bottles of beer and put them on the kitchen counter. She appeared from the bathroom still drying her hair, and smiled when she saw he was awake.

"Good morning. How are you feeling today?" she asked kindly.

"I'm fine. I was wondering.. if I could take a shower. I'll pay for whatever water I use, that won't be a problem.." He said, and blinked in confusion when she laughed.

"Don't be silly, John. You don't have to pay me. A shower is a great idea.. you can't return to Elysium smelling like a stray cat." She joked. "I'll get you a towel." He watched her walk away. Did he really smell that bad?.. Atleast she had voiced her optimism about the chances of him going home today.

The bathroom had seen better times, the old tiles a faded blue. The scent of her shampoo lingered in the steam filled shower cabin. She returned and handed him a worn towel, beckoning him to come closer.

"Let's see what your wound looks like. It might be better not to make it wet." She said, unwrapping his bandages. Finally able to see the damage they caused to his body, he flinched at the angry looking stitched up wound. But she seemed pleased with the way it looked as she gently palpated around it. The wound was sensitive, but clearly on the mend. Her touch didn't hurt him as much as he had anticipated.

"It's healing very well. I don't think a bit of water will damage it. Just be careful with the soap, it might sting." She told him with a warm smile, handing him a faded looking pair of sweatpants and a grey shirt. "These are my brother's. I think they'll fit you. I guess it has its advantages after all that he still brings over his laundry every week.." she chuckled. Her kindness still silenced him. And as he watched her leave, he mentally kicked himself.

"Thank you." He spoke politely when she was about to close the bathroom door. "You just saved me the embarrassment of walking over my own front lawn in my underwear. My neighbours would finally have something to talk about during their dreary Sunday barbeques."

She chuckled. "They will talk about that pair of sweatpants instead.." she said and closed the door. Oh, they will. He thought to his bitter amusement. Knowing his neighbours as well as he did, which was thankfully not very well. But not by their lack of trying.

He had never been more grateful for a shower in his entire life. The warm water on his aching body almost felt like laying in a Med Bay, relaxing his muscles with its harmless radiation. He was happy to finally smell like something else than blood and sweat, even if it was some cheap flowery stuff Elysians didn't even use to wash their dogs with. That fact seemed a little ridiculous now. The world really was going to shit if dog shampoo determined if you were a worthy enough person or not.

Feeling refreshed after the shower, he looked for a comb to straighten his hair, finding her hairbrush instead. It did the job fine. He gazed at himself in the cracked mirror. He looked worlds better than the last time he took a look at himself, yet still pale and tired, it would have to do for now. Who was he trying to impress anyway? By now, word of his unknown whereabouts had probably reached his neighbours as well. They probably didn't expect him to return looking as sharp and impeccable as before he got his chest blown allover the place.

It had been decades since the last time he wore sweatpants.. But again, it would have to do for now. He had to admit, they were rather comfortable. Amused, he noticed the faded Armadyne logo on the back of the grey shirt. He didn't even know his company sold shirts. Why didn't he have one? He would ask his secretary about it the next time he'd see her. He wondered if that poor girl was very distraught about the whole situation. What was her name again? Her last name was Varela. Miss Varela.. he gave up. He couldn't remember her first name. He didn't even know if she was from Earth or Elysium. He'd make sure to spend a little more time getting to know the people that worked close to him from now on. They were people like Mira after all. And Miss Varela did everything he asked her. She'd bark like a dog if he'd tell her to.

Modestly satisfied with how he looked, he left the bathroom and found Mira in the kitchen making coffee.

"I had no idea my company made shirts.." He spoke to her back. She turned to face him with an amused smile.

"It does. I have one too. They're pretty good quality. My brother's just looks like shit cause he wears it while fixing up his car." She said. He chuckled at that and thanked her when she handed him a cup of fresh coffee. Atleast he doesn't use it to polish his car, he thought. Clean the windshields with the Armadyne logo, why don't you, little gangster.

"You look a lot better now. More like yourself." She remarked. "You smell more like yourself too, I'm sure. Eventhough I have no idea what you usually smell like."

He decided right there not to mention how much his cologne cost. "What happened to my clothes? I looked for them, but I couldn't find them." He asked. She took a sip of her coffee and shook her head lightly.

"I threw them out. Everything was covered in blood, even your socks. The doctor cut through your shirt but even if he hadn't.. there was a gaping hole in it. I saved your shoes though. They're under your bed." She explained. "They probably cost more than my car." She added bitterly.

"I was attended to by a doctor? I don't remember that at all. Does he require payment for his services?" He asked, the shoes completely forgotten.

She nodded with a small uncertain small. "Doctor Campos, yes. He's a good friend of my father. If you really want to know if he wants you to pay him I could give you his phone number. But I don't think he'd be after money. He's a true humanitarian. He'd tend to the Devil himself. No fan of yours, or Elysium for sure. But he didn't hesitate for one second when I told him you were dying in front of my eyes."

"I want his contact information, yes. I'd like to speak to him myself when I find the time." He decided, nodding in approval of his own words. He took a sip of his coffee watching her smile while writing down the doctor's phone number. He might not be able to impress his neighbours right now, but to impress Mira with his eagerness to show gratitude meant more to him anyway.

She handed him the folded piece of paper, her eyes kind when she looked at him. "He'll be surprised if you call him, I can give you that." She said, rummaging through a cupboard "You want breakfast?" she held up a frying pan.

He blinked, staring at the cooking device. "I.. never have breakfast. Only on Sundays.. when I happen to wake up hungry." He explained.

"That's the most important meal of the day you're skipping, not good for a man of your age." She teased softly, looking over her shoulder at him with a wicked smile. He chuckled at her playful antics, a welcome diversion in his ever serious life.

"I shouldn't have told you about that. I will never hear the end of it, will I?" He said. She laughed and shook her head. Hell no he was ever going to hear the end of that. Then again, she wasn't sure she would ever see him again once he left to go back home. Up so high where he belonged. Figuring it would be the last meal they'd spend together, he agreed to have breakfast with her. It would take a while before he had figured out why the thought of never seeing her again made him feel sad.

"You never told me what you do in life.. " He said, watching her finish the last few pieces of egg and toast on her plate. She waited with answering him until she had swallowed down her food.

"I'm a teacher. " she replied with a small smile. "You're lucky you crashed in front of my house during spring break." He returned her smile.

"High school?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Elementary.. "

"Ah, no specifications. Just a little bit of everything" he concluded. "It suits you. I don't remember much of my time at elementary school. I know it was in New York, cause we lived there. I would be surprised if that school still exists today."

"You have children, John?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I do not, no. I'm not married.. this ring.." he fumbled with the golden ring around his finger. "It was my great grandfather's signet ring. I don't know why I wear it. Sentimental reasons, I suppose. My father made me promise to never take it off."

She gazed at it curiously. "I seriously thought that ring could do something.. Call the president of China or.. transform into a life boat.. anything."

He chuckled. "No.. I'm afraid it is just what it looks like."

They both looked up when a knock came to the door. He watched her walk off to open the door for an exhausted and panting Dean, followed by four droids that looked much like Carlyle's former bodyguards. Mira didn't seem happy with the armed parole officers in her house and kept her distance, her arms folded across her chest as she followed the robots into the kitchen where they surrounded the CEO protectively.

" _Mister Carlyle, your shuttle will arrive in 10 minutes. Are you in need of immediate medical attention?"_ asked one of the droids with its mechanic, emotionless voice.

"He's fine!" Mira protested, not keen on being ignored. One of the droids turned to her. " _stop talking, citizen. It is unauthorized to address a parole officer with that tone."_

She was silent, but her expression spoke volumes and John decided he had seen enough. He got up from his chair slowly. "Droids, lower your weapons. I'm not in immediate danger." He ordered. The robots did as they were told.

Dean walked up to Mira and placed an uncertain hand on her arm. "You alright, sis?" he asked. She shrugged him off, angry with the situation.

"I'm sorry they're here." Dean apologized. "The moment I had contacted these Elysian people everything went so fucking fast. These fucking droids appeared out of nowhere and demanded I'd bring them to him." He looked at the CEO angrily, as if it was all his fault.

" _scanning for injuries"_ One of the droids started. A faint blue light came out of its eyepieces and scanned over Armadyne's CEO. _"Cardiothoracic trauma detected. You are in need of urgent medical attention. Would you like a pill?"_

"No.." John said, gazing at the furious young woman. He was sorry to see her so upset with the droids inside her home. They had no right to come bursting in like this. That was something in their program that needed to be changed. He wondered if they did this all the time. They probably did. They could be unnecessarily violent from time to time

It was only a few moments later when a shuttle arrived right in front of the house. Its sheer force blowing through the opened windows, causing the stack of fold outs on the coffee table to scatter everywhere. Dean cursed loudly. But John could not take his eyes off the woman that had saved his life. Her dark hair blowing around her face, almost covering it completely. Ignoring the cryptic communications between the droids and the shuttle outside, John walked up to her and extended his hand.

"Thank you, miss Sullivan. For all you've done for me." He said, trying to make himself hearable over the sound of the shuttle's engines. She stared at his hand for a moment before slowly accepting it. Nodding at his words of gratitude.

"Take care, John."

He wasn't mister Carlyle to her. He never would be. She flat out refused to belong in the category of people that placed him on a pedestal. White colored droids joined the others, they came running, red crosses on their chest pieces. They took the CEO with them while the white shuttle's engine was still running. She stood by the window with her brother right behind her, watching the medical shuttle take off into space.


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

It had been weeks since John had left her home, and the memories of the events started to become part of her mind like they had only ever existed in her imagination. Doctor Campos had briefly called her the day after Carlyle left to inform her the CEO had contacted him to express his gratitude. It had been a strange day for the doctor.

Dean had received his money after his shift the following day. He had been called into a little back office where Carlyle's secretary had handed him a leather suitcase containing a million dollars cash. The CEO had obviously felt too good to hand over the money himself. And it had probably a lot to do with the treatment Dean had given his employer when the latter was in a vulnerable position. It was Carlyle's way of saying that the only reason Dean wasn't fired yet and actually got his stupid money, was because Mira was his sister. But the little gangster shouldn't make the mistake of addressing him in such a way ever again.

She slowly began to realize there would be no further word coming from John Carlyle. She and him, although so closely connected during his stay at her home, were from different worlds that were obviously harder to combine than they both had anticipated.

Once school had started again, she decided to tell her young students about her little adventure with the Elysian businessman. It had raised a lot of questions from her young pupils. There were obviously a lot of wild stories going around about what people from Elysium looked like. It was no surprise to her. These children had never been up close to an Elysian citizen. Their imagination had run wild because of the lack of answers.

How tall was he? Did he speak a different language? Did he sleep? Did he use the bathroom? Questions like that made her wonder if Elysians were aware of it that the children of earth basically doubted if they were human beings at all. And being the teacher she was, she was glad she could provide the answers these children so desperately needed. John Carlyle was very human indeed. He liked pizza like everyone else and could sleep like a hibernating bear. The children had laughed at her stories. Sometimes she wondered what would happen should she invite him to her school. Let him explain how often he went to the bathroom. He would probably ignore her request.

Once the stories had reached the children's parents, more concerned topics reached the surface. Most of them concerning the exact reasons of Carlyle's data heist. Rumors went around that a new president of Elyisum had been assigned, but as usual, the Torus didn't care about informing Earth of its silent revolution.

It didn't matter much to Mira, she had bigger fish to fry. Her illness was eating at her body at a steady pace. The Miporol could make her feel like nothing was going on, but she was losing weight rapidly, up to a point that the school's principal ordered her to inform the parents of the children in her class. It had been the hardest ten minutes in front of a chalk board she had ever endured. The faces of the parents, sitting in their own children's school benches, gazing at her in pure shock and disbelief. She wouldn't be there for the next semester if the illness continued to develop this fast.

Then the get well cards arrived. And the flowers on her desk in her classroom, along with a dry note from the principal. The worst were the crying children she had to comfort once the news reached the youngsters she had tried to protect.

But things were about to get even worse. The eight year old Trevor, a student from her group, had been diagnosed with the very same thing that was eating her. His mother came to inform her about it after his second week of absence. It felt like her world was falling apart when the desperate mother had sunk to her knees in tears. The doctors had given him up, like they had given her up a few weeks back.

At night, she gazed up at the wheel rotating in the sky, and wondered if the high and mighty John Carlyle was aware of the drama taking place on the planet he despised so much. She had put John's blood stained shoes in an old box and had shoved it into a far corner of her closet. Like a grotesque souvenir to be rediscovered when they were stripping down her house after her death.

Her brother had bought her a new car with his million. Likely because she turned down the offer of a better house in a better part of the city. It didn't matter anymore. She wouldn't be in this world for long anyway.

"Why don't you go and see that son of a bitch and let him repay you. You saved his life.. he will save yours too. He told you he would, I know he did." Dean urged her one evening, as they sat on her old rickety couch, side by side. His arm around her trembling shoulders as she cried big tears of despair. They weren't even for herself. They were for little Trevor. The boy that refused to show up in anything else but his Spiderman costume the first two months of the year. Ever since she had told Dean about her illness, he had brought up Carlyle's promise almost every day. Up to the point of begging her on his knees to let the Elysian businessman take her to his Med Bay.

"I don't want to. I rather die than get healed and watch Trevor die instead." She said in a shaky voice. "That's all I wish.. that boy.. "

In all of his tough exterior, he was her older brother, and he held her close to his tattooed chest as she cried. And he would honor her last wish, if she wanted it to be like this, he would make sure it happened. Even if he had to hold Carlyle's face in a toilet bowl to get it done. So he nodded, feeling tears well up in his own eyes as well.

"Then you and Trevor go with me to the factory tomorrow, and we'll demand the kid gets healed." He spoke with determination. She clung on to him for dear life, burying her face in his shirt. She was scared, scared to find out what was beyond the dark curtain of death. She loved her life. Loved her job. Loved her brother, most of all.

Trevor's mother was a whole new challenge. Like any parent, she didn't think much of the idea of sending her child up to Elysium on his own. But Mira knew John would never take her with him too. He owed her, but he would do it on his terms nonetheless. She knew him a little by now. And by the way he had treated her brother and the money he had promised him, she knew she was right about this. Mira would give Trevor what Carlyle had promised for her.. life. With that thought, the mother handed over her child.

So the next day, on her old bicycle, with Trevor behind her, she managed her way across the dirt roads that led to the glooming factory walls. She would meet Dean at the gates of the Armadyne factory, he would explain the situation to the foreman and had him grand them access. Trevor's mother had given the boy his Spiderman backpack containing his lunch, like he was going on a field trip.

A nervous Dean ushered them through the factory hall, aware of the stares of the other workers. What they did was illegal. They had no formal appointment with the CEO, and their presence was unauthorized. If any droids picked up their signal, they would be thrown out with brutal force. It was the last thing she wanted to see happen to Trevor. The little boy skipped happily along with her. Like her, he was on Miporol, and the effects of his disease wouldn't manifest themselves yet.

Dean knew exactly where he had to go, and rounded a corner to open a small door that lead to the staircase. Leaving the work floor behind, they climbed the staircase to get to the CEO's front office. A foreman came up to meet them, looking quite offended by their trespassing.

"You have an appointment?" He asked. Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into a wall. Mira had no idea how he had sneaked it through the detection booths, but her brother reached into his coat pocket to take out a gun, pressing the end of its barrel against the foreman's head.

"You're going to open that fucking door or I'm gonna blow your brains out." He hissed. The man whimpered in fear.

"That's enough.." A female voice said. Carlyle's secretary had arrived, clutching her notebook against her chest as she calmly walked up to them. "Let him go or I will call for security. State your business here." She said. If she was shocked to see an armed man, she didn't show it. The skin modified flowers on the side of her head revealed she was an Elysian. Her cool demeanour changed only when Dean pointed the gun at her.

"Tell that rich son of a bitch to get his ass over here..It's pay day." He threatened.

Miss Varela swallowed nervously. "He's in a conference call" she argued calmly. Mira had to admit, this woman was bravery incarnate. To say her employer was busy into the barrel of a loaded gun showed some guts. "But.. Once he's done..I'm sure he has a few minutes to spare for you.." she continued, looking at Mira meaningfully.

So they waited. Awkwardly sitting on a modern looking grey sofa in Varela's office while she typed away on her computer. Shooting wary glances at Dean every so often. Security droids were only one button away now, and Mira's brother had put away his gun.

Trevor was free to roam around the office, so they both watched in amusement as he attempted to communicate with the tropical fish in the big aquarium. He was unaware of the seriousness of the situation, and only looked forward to meeting someone they had talked about at school. The subject of Trevor's homework came out of his office half an hour later and stopped in his tracks when he saw Mira.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked coolly, giving Varela an agitated look. The secretary obviously didn't know what to say. Caught off guard she started tripping over her words.

"Is..isn't this miss Mira Sullivan, sir?" she asked. But Carlyle didn't answer, he had noticed the child rolling around on the contemporary black and white carpet and was temporarily distracted.

"John.."

He averted his eyes from the child upon hearing her voice and gazed at her impassively. His eyes missed the warmth she had seen before. They were devoid of emotion and made her wonder if he even remembered the offer he made her. There wasn't much time for them to hold a staring contest however, for Trevor had noticed the CEO's presence and came over excitingly.

"I had my show and tell about you!" The child said proudly. The businessman just stared at him like he had never seen a little boy before.

Confused at the man's silence, Trevor looked over his shoulder at his teacher for help. Mira had hoped the CEO wouldn't be the social disaster he could be at this very moment, or could atleast part from his cool demeanour for a moment to accommodate a young child. She placed her hands on Trevor's small shoulders and leaned in close to his ear.

"I think mister Carlyle wants to know your name first.." she told him softly and encouragingly, keeping her eyes on the cold businessman, almost begging him to cooperate.

Trevor, already over the first disappointment, held out his hand. "I'm Trevor!" For a moment it didn't seem the CEO was going to respond to this either, but when her eyes starting shooting daggers at him, he accepted Trevor's handshake and nodded stiffly at the little boy like he was greeting one of his stockholders.

"Pleasure.." he mumbled dryly, causing the boy to beam with pride at the, in his eyes, successful introduction. But the businessman had played Mira's game long enough and regarded her coldly, like she had just done him the greatest wrong of all times.

"My office.. now" He said and turned on his heels. Handing a rather confused Trevor over to her brother, who immediately started trying to distract the boy by explaining what each of his tattoos stood for, she followed the CEO into his office. He shut the door behind her with a loud clap, causing her to flinch at the sound, and folded his arms across his chest, looking very unamused.

"I can explain this.." she started, holding up her hands in an attempt to calm him down.

"I'm sure you have your story at the ready, miss Sullivan. And before you start off on a rant I really have no time for, I wish to say something too. This is the last time you're going to pull a trick on me like that. You have..no idea.. who you're talking to. Do you?" He said.

Offended, she huffed. "Well, look at you, mister high and mighty. I think I'm talking to the man who begged me to not leave him alone while he was trying to sleep. I'm talking to a man dropping pizza toppings on his underwear on my couch.. I'm talking to a man, a human man, I slept on a sofa with! Do you wish for me to continue.. mister John Carlyle?!"

It seemed to work, cause he backed off and sat down in his office chair. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and let out a deep sigh. "What is it that you want?" he asked.

"I'm here to accept your offer." She said dryly. He looked up at her, leaning his chin on the back of his hands.

"You care to remind me what I offered? I've been very busy."

She sighed in annoyance, he didn't give a rats ass about her or anyone but himself.

"You offered to heal me. Do you even remember I'm sick?"

He gazed her calmly, looking up and down, as if he expected to find visible traces of what was trying to eat her away. "I know you're sick. I also know you didn't want to use a Med Bay because you felt like you couldn't live with the guilt. That has changed, I take it?" He asked.

"It has not. I'm here to request healing for someone else. The little boy you just met.." she started.

"No.."

His answer, devoid of any feeling whatsoever, felt like a slap to her face. She couldn't believe this man was able to just sign a little child's death sentence with one word. For a moment, she was rendered speechless, just staring at him in utter disbelief.

"You promised.." she argued softly.

"I offered it to you. That offer cannot be used for any other means. My answer is no. But for you, the offer still stands."

Exasperated, she wrapped her arms around herself as if she suddenly felt cold. She didn't want to be defeated so easily, but the illness was draining her strength. She wasn't the lively woman she had been only months earlier. Without waiting for his permission, she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. The cold black leather cracked under her light weight, it suited his personality quite well. Feeling tears well up, she looked down at her dirtied hands, covered in dust, like everyone else's.

"All I want is that Trevor will live. That is my wish. If you care about repaying me for saving your life, you honor that wish.." she spoke softly, calculating every word. Once she looked up at him again, he met her stare defiantly. How many people had sat in this very same chair and had braved themselves through his Siberian attitude, she didn't know.

"It's my Med Bay.." He started.

"And it's my life!" She interrupted him angrily, slamming her hand down on the transparent desk. "Are you even above honouring a death wish? Is that it?!"

"Raising your voice at me won't get you want you want, miss Sullivan!" He roared.

An uncomfortable silence followed. He didn't like to be reminded she was in fact a dying human being, the young woman that had saved his life. And he couldn't help her, unless she agreed to come with him. Just like his parents, he had to watch her go.

"I.. fixed this disease.. decades ago.." He started with a shaky voice as he leaned over his desk. "And I cannot stand the idea you refuse to use it.. I cannot stand it, Mira. But if I have to make peace with the fact you wish to die.. I rather not see you ever again."

His words sank in only slowly, and he had already called for his secretary to come in when she snapped herself out of her trance. Miss Varela walked in quietly, seemingly on her tiptoes as if she was afraid to disturb a tender moment or something. Carlyle had gotten up from his desk and handed the Elysian woman a set of keys.

"Amelia, I want you to take that child up to my house, have him use the Med Bay and return at once. Get someone in here with a DNA tag.." He mumbled. Mira couldn't help but smile softly to herself, even though the tears were still dripping down her face. She didn't dare to look up at him, afraid he might change his mind.

"Yes, sir" Miss Varela replied, her eyes focused on the young woman in the big leather chair. "And miss Sullivan, sir?"

Carlyle followed his secretary's worried gaze. He had hurt Mira with his words, he knew he did. But there was no helping it. If she didn't want the privilege to use his Med Bay and get rid of her illness, there was little else he could offer her.

"She can wait here for the boy along with her brother. Let someone bring over some tea and coffee.. I'll move my work to the foreman's office for now." With that, and no other goodbye, the CEO left his office. Passing the child and his employee without saying a word.

If all Elysians were supposed to be stone cold people, then Miss Varela was the exception to the rule. She kneeled down next to Mira's chair to place a comforting hand on her knee, not even minding the dirt stains on her cheap pair of jeans.

"If they handed out awards for biggest jerk in the world, miss Sullivan.." she started, causing the teacher to laugh through her tears and wipe her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

"He'd win first price.." Mira continued.

Miss Varela just smiled. "Maybe second. He cares about you a lot. I.. I think he doesn't like feeling like he can't do anything about it. He's a man that needs answers. And if the answers aren't given to him, he will turn the world upside down to find them. That is how he build the Med Bay in the first place."

There were so many people who knew him better than Mira did, and she was well aware of it. Even his secretary seemed to know more about him.

"It doesn't matter anymore.." Mira said, still sniffing. "I'm just happy you're going to take Trevor up there. He'll love to hear he's going to fly in a shuttle.." she chuckled.

The secretary squeezed her shoulder comfortingly before getting up from the grey, tiled floor. "A brandnew shuttle too.." She said with a wink, knowing the little boy was going to be overjoyed. "I'll take good care of him, I promise. I'll go get my things."

Mira nodded and smiled when she saw Trevor walk into the office, looking around in awe. He pressed his nose against the glass window that looked out over the factory hall, and waved at the workers. Some waved back in slight confusion, probably wondering if it was Carlyle's son they were waving at. Thank God the soulless bastard didn't put any children on this earth.

"Trevor.." Mira called for his attention. The young boy came up to her immediately. She took his hands in hers and smiled at him, hoping silently he wouldn't notice her tearstained face. "You're going with Miss Varela to Elysium." She told him.

The boy stared back at her and blinked. "Right now?"

His teacher nodded in confirmation. "Right now."

"In a shuttle?" The boy asked, his little round face beaming with anticipation. But then his expression suddenly changed, like only a child's could do. "What about you?" He asked.

Mira bit her lip to hold back the tears that were threatening to make her own despair visible. "I can't go with you. I'll be here waiting for you when you come back."

"But you're sick too!" Trevor called out. The unfairness of the situation making no sense to his innocent brain. His teacher could only gaze at him calmly, as if made numb by the whole ordeal.

"You behave yourself, Trevor" Mira said, forcing herself to smile at the young boy.

"But what about you?" he asked again.

Miss Varela had collected her purse and coat and came up to the teacher and her pupil. It was time to go. The child's question remained unanswered as Miss Varela extended her hand toward him with a kind smile. A little unsure, the boy accepted.

"I'll be right here." Mira said. It seemed the be enough for Trevor, cause he followed Miss Varela out of the office without any further trouble. He waved briefly at Dean, still sitting on the couch in the front office. The tough man responded with a military salute and a wink.

Now alone in Carlyle's sterile office, Mira Buried her face in her hands, finally allowing the tears to fall freely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the support during my long absence on this story. Enjoy the new chapter. More to follow soon.**

 **Chapter 5.**

It was about two hours later when Dean woke up on the couch in Varela's office. The factory had turned completely quiet, the work floor a dark pit with only the emergency exit lights to guide your way. The workers had gone home. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he looked at his watch. 05:30, no wonder the place was deserted. A typical worker's day ended around 05:00. The night shift started around 08:00.

He sat up slowly, looking around. The door to the CEO's office was open, and the sound of someone working at a computer reached his ears. But the bright TL pipes on the ceiling had been turned off, the only light came from the computer screen. Dean pulled himself up from the couch with a grunt and poured himself a cup of coffee from the tray that had been put in Varela's office. Taking a careful sip, for the beverage was still hot, he peered around the doorway of Carlyle's office.

The Elysian businessman sat behind his desk, working on Lord knows what in a completely dark office. He didn't notice Dean right away, and the latter had time to scan the place for his younger sister. He found her laying on the couch, vast asleep under the CEO's expensive coat. Amused, Dean took another sip from his coffee and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

John looked up. "Come in.." He mumbled and resumed his work. Rolling his eyes, for he wasn't asking for permission, Dean stepped into the office. He sighed, gazing at his sleeping sister. She must have been exhausted to fall asleep like that, but she looked calm and most of all comfortable.

"Your secretary is taking her sweet ass time, isn't she?" Dean said, keeping his voice low to avoid waking Mira up.

"I have no idea what she's doing.." Carlyle confirmed, never ceasing his typing. "But she should be back soon." Dean nodded as he looked around the office like he was in a museum. "You got kids, Carlyle?" He asked, taking another sip from his coffee.

The CEO pursed his lips in slight agitation, and stopped his work for a moment. "I do not see why I should be sharing personal details about my life with you.." He argued.

Dean chuckled at the businessman's defensive reply. "Relax, man. I meant nothing by it. Just trying to make conversation here.." He laughed.

"I do not wish to have a conversation with you. About anything for that matter."

"Fair enough.." Dean said. "I got kids. Got two girls at home."

The Elysian just let out a deep annoyed sigh, never taking his eyes off the glowing screen.

"The oldest is called Shelley, she's 14 now. Will be 15 soon. She looks so much like her mom, it's ridiculous." Dean continued happily.

It was obvious nothing would make this man stop talking, so John did his best to just ignore his stupid babbling and tried to finish his work. He felt himself count to ten to calm himself and not press the security button to have a droid remove Mira's annoying brother from his view.

"The youngest is Kim. Turning 10 this month!" Dean said proudly. "I'd love to have a son."

Then what are you doing in my office? Go home and make some more children, why don't you. Like this damn planet isn't overcrowded enough as it is. Carlyle mused softly. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he wouldn't risk Mira's wrath should she hear about what he said to her brother.

"And then my wife, you see. Now that is one fine woman. You should see her. Man. She's got these long dark curls that drive you nuts. I'm telling you, I've been married to her for 10 years but fuck me.. whenever she wears those skin tight jeans she's got.."

Feeling a headache come up, John rubbed his temples.

"I'd do anything for that woman.." Dean said, gazing at Carlyle with his arms folded across his tattooed chest. "You know why?"

"Enlighten me" The CEO said, completely uninterested, trying to focus his attention on what was happening on the computer screen.

"Cause she's too good for me. But she choose me anyway. That's love, Carlyle. Two imperfect people refusing to give up on eachother." Dean waited a moment before continuing. "Like my little sister here refused to say anything bad behind your back. Even if you were a complete dickhead for not picking up that phone and call her to ask how she's doing."

"I know how she's doing." Carlyle replied dryly, moving his eyes up to meet Dean's momentarily before looking back at his screen. "And to my knowledge I did everything I could to persuade her to change her current situation. But it seems your sister entertains a penchant for dying instead. Perhaps you should seek out some mental assistance for her, instead of bothering me with your petty attempts at guild tripping."

For a moment, all Dean could was gaze at the Elysian businessman in sadness and defeat. The weight of his sister's nearing death gnawing at him like a rat in his inside pocket. "You didn't try shit, man." The tattooed man whispered in desperation. "That girl cares about your sorry ass. That is precious, man. You're treating it like you got a mansion full of chicks up there."

"Well that is hardly the case." Carlyle mumbled bitterly, deleting an email he had been writing cause he hadn't been able to concentrate on it properly due to Dean's presence, and his formulation left nothing to the imagination that he had a gangster in his office while writing to the ambassador of Europe. Several grammar mistakes and a few swear words decorated his unfortunate email. "I do not have a limitless amount of time on my hand to bother myself with such insignificant frivolities, mister Sullivan."

"You call my sister an insignificant frivolity I'm gonna beat yo ass so bad no med bay can fix your face." Dean warned. "Or your ass.."

Having had quite enough, Carlyle shoved his expensive chair back sharply. "If you're in my office to make threats, mister Sullivan, may I remind you I can very well make threats too. And I can assure you, I will gladly turn my threats into deeds, should you have the audacity to come and threaten me in my office again!"

It was at that moment Dean decided to turn his threats into deeds as well, and before the Elysian realized, he had grabbed the businessman by the front of his shirt, pulling him close to his tattooed face, ready to beat the arrogant man into a coma.

"Man, you are two seconds away from having your front teeth slammed into that fancy desk of yours." Dean hissed. Carlyle struggled against his grip, but couldn't pull loose. "Unhand me!" He ordered. "Let go of me! Have you lost your mind?!"

"Shut your mouth, or I'll rebuild it!" Dean warned, slamming the CEO of Armadyne's back into the grey wall of his office, keeping him there, pinned against the concrete. "She should have let you die. It's what you deserve anyway!" Right then, Mira intervened, having woken up because of the ruckus around her, she pushed herself between the two men, gently urging her brother away from her former patient.

"Dean, no! Have you gone crazy!" she said. "Let him be." As Dean let go, allowing his tired sister using the little strength she had left to push him away, he fired a few deadly glances at the shocked Elysian businessman, still pressed against the wall. "You promised." She pleaded to her brother. "Dean, you promised. No violence."

Looking at his sister, the gangster's expression softened. "Hell, I wasn't gonna break his pretty peeled face, man." He shrugged. "Just wanted him to know who's top dog. He knows now, don't you, Johnny?" The CEO said nothing, and stared at the young man with a steely glare while readjusting his tie. Mira sighed tiredly, much like she would do when two of her young students refused to stop bickering about a disappeared crayon.

"Enough." She chided softly. "Both of you." She then handed the CEO his jacket back, the one he had placed over her after she had fallen asleep. "Thank you." She mumbled, as he took it from her. He searched for her eyes, but she refused to look at him. "I might have wrinkled it a bit." She apologized, rubbing her arms against the cold air in the office. The heaters had been shut down when the factory work floor closed.

"Why don't you keep it?" Carlyle suggested dryly. "You're still cold." He tried to hand it back, but she turned away from him, shaking her head.

"I cannot afford to be in your debt, mister Carlyle." She shot over her shoulder, accepting her brother's leather jacket instead. So he had been reduced to mister Carlyle then, the Elysian mused sadly. The young man wore nothing but a faded tank top underneath, but he didn't seem to be bothered by the chill that hung in the air. Offended, Carlyle tossed his expensive coat on his desk.

"Do not treat me like I care more about my attire than your wellbeing, Mira." He said, his voice shaky with emotion. "That is not the case, and you know it." She didn't answer, and didn't look at him either, she simply leaned against her brother's broad chest, fighting back her tears.

"Man, shut the fuck up." Dean spat at him, his arms around his shivering sister protectively. "How long is this supposed to take? Why don't you go call that piece of arm candy of yours, and tell her to get her ass back here. The kid's parents are waiting."

Carlyle huffed. "You should have thought about that before deciding to force me to send a child up there. I don't know why it's taking this long. Anything could have happened." He said, sitting back down at his desk. "Homeland Security might have intervened. They can pick up anything that breaches Elysium's atmosphere than doesn't belong there. You might have caused that child more harm than good by doing this." Now hardened, he didn't cease his horror scenarios when Mira gave him a terrified look. "He could be in a holding cell right now, for all we know. Being questioned. And I suppose I'll have some explaining to do as well once I get home. Since it was my own shuttle that carried that child."

Unfolding herself from her brother's arms, Mira approached the desk slowly. "They won't hurt him, will they?"

The CEO shot her a cold glare. "You know just as well as anyone droids aren't known for their gentle approach." He explained harshly. "They were programmed to deal with illegal immigrants quickly and efficiently, and they're allowed to use violence if they must." He was causing the young woman in front of him great distress, he knew he did. Her lip trembled in shock.

"Violence?" she whispered. "Against a child?"

"An illegal child." Carlyle corrected her dryly. "The droids used by Homeland Security aren't programmed to know the difference between a minor and an adult."

Slowly, her horrified expression turned into anger. "But you made them." She nearly choked on her words. "Why would you make them like that? What purpose does it serve that they use violence against little children? As young as infants they go up there!"

"I make what is requested." Carlyle replied simply. "The request didn't include a difference in behaviour when dealing with under aged targets. Why would I make something more complicated, when I don't even get paid for it? Besides, if the parents didn't want their children to be exposed to the danger of facing droids, they should have decided against sending them up there in the first place. It's breaking the law. No matter how you look at it." she looked ready to throw his computer screen through a window, yet he didn't stop. "Breaking the law has its consequences. Perhaps that is something you should teach your students, miss Sullivan. Before preaching about paradise."

She shook her head slowly, not believing, refusing to believe what she was hearing. But her eyes now showed pity, disappointment, and most of all regret. "Listen to yourself.." she whispered. "What made you detest people so much? Perhaps it would have been better if we had never met. I do not wish you death, John.. but I do wish it wouldn't have been me."

The Elysian said nothing in return, and dropped his gaze to his keyboard. He could no longer meet the eyes of the dying young woman that had saved his life, and had treated his rattled self with much kindness and compassion. But he didn't have to. At that moment, the light patter of a young boy's sprint echoed through the sterile hall that lead to the CEO's office. Trevor came bursting into the room, his hair soaking wet, and the biggest smile on his face. Being a child, he hadn't picked up on the nervous mood that hung in the air, and he jumped into his teacher's awaiting arms in an unbridled act of happiness.

"Miss Sullivan!" He started excitingly. "We went.. in the shuttle.. and we went up, and it took like a very long time to get there.. and.." The boy, completely out of breath from running the entire way from the launch bay to the office, to tell about his adventure, was hardly able to get out of his words.

Mira chuckled softly, kneeling in front of him in an attempt to calm him enough to do his story. "Easy, Trevor.. Take your time." She told him gently. He nodded vigorously, still smiling, and tried to mimic her breathing as she attempted to show him how to inhale and exhale calmly.

"And then we went.. to a house.. to his house." Trevor pointed at the silent businessman, a quiet observer to the small scene unfolding in his usually so quiet and organized office. "And I had to lay in this thing.. this really big thing.. and then I felt loads better.. and I was hungry, so Amelia took me to her house, which was much prettier, and much better, cause there was a dog, and I got to play with him in the yard, and then I had lunch. Pancakes. which was great!" Mira stopped him for a moment, still trying to calm him.

"Trevor.. breathe." She instructed kindly. He nodded again, this time rushing his respiration exercises to continue his story.

"And then I got to swim in the pool! And there was ice cream, and robots, and the dog! And then he jumped in the pool, and all the robots went nuts!" The boy continued, the adrenaline coursing through his body. But the traces of his illness were gone, and he looked completely healthy, like any other boy his age. There was a healthy red blush on his young cheeks, and he had gained the necessary body fat to boast his immune system. "I forgot the dog's name.." He suddenly said, slowly regaining his breath, a deep worried frown on his face.

Mira laughed. "That's alright. I'm sure he'll forgive you." She hugged the boy again, letting out a deep sigh in relief at his safe return. "I'm so glad to see you, Trevor."

Miss Varela had arrived at the office as well. Unlike Trevor, she hadn't decided to run through the hall on her heels. She stood in the doorway, looking quite guilty, and almost afraid to show herself to her employer, who was now rubbing his temples, feeling a headache come up.

Mira bit her lip seeing the difficult situation Carlyle had been put in, and turned to her young pupil again. "I think we owe someone a thank you, don't you?" she asked the boy, who seemed to think about her question for a moment, before nodding. She let him go, wanting him to do the thanking by himself. As always, she remained the teacher, and she was one of those that let the children try by themselves at first, and offer assistance only when necessary.

Getting around the big, glass desk, Trevor halted next to the CEO's chair. "Thank you, mister Carlyle." He spoke politely, with slightly more apprehension than before, the child had obviously learned its lesson in dealing with the stoic man. Still holding his head in his hands, Carlyle slowly straightened, and looked down at the small child impassively. For a moment Mira feared the businessman would not be persuaded a second time to address a child from Earth, but she was pleasantly surprised when Carlyle gave a quick nod in acknowledgement. To Trevor, besides from acceptance, it was also permission to run off and thank the person who, in his naïve eyes, really made the whole trip possible. Which was miss Varela.

The young boy wrapped his arms around her in a much more affectionate show of gratitude. "Thank you, Amelia! I had a great time! But I forgot the name of your dog!" He said, looking up at her with an apologizing smile.

"Chio." Miss Varela chuckled awkwardly, feeling her employer stare at her intently. She was in trouble, and she knew it. "We had a good time, didn't we, Trevor?" she decided on saying.

The child nodded vigorously, and turned to his teacher, in the hope she would approve of his thank you's. But Mira's eyes were on the tired and defeated looking Carlyle, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe his still building migraine. It had been a long day. For every soul present in his office right now. "John.." she urged gently, not wanting to end this day with him refusing to look at her. "You saved his life." She continued. There was no reaction, and she didn't think she expected one. "I'm proud of you." Her voice just above a whisper. He removed his hand from his face, and looked up at her coldly.

"Oh that is a real comfort." He sneered.

"Good." She spoke back bravely, not intimidated by his sarcasm. "Then I suppose I should go."

He nodded in agreement, his expression still hard and unforgiving. "Yes, I suppose you should."

As Mira turned toward her brother, ready to go, the young man shook his head at the moping businessman in disapproval, but the Elysian ignored his almost pleading stare. There was nothing left to say, and right now, watching Mira get out of his office, and take all these people with her, was all he wanted, and he wasn't going to do be refused what he wanted this time. So Dean picked up the child, and wrapped his other tattooed arm around his sister's narrow shoulders protectively. She thanked miss Varela on her way out, giving her a kind hand, and a few words of sincere gratitude. The secretary didn't quite know how to respond, the situation ending in sadness as she had predicted. The child said his goodbyes to the kind Elysian woman, and waved, in all innocence, at the brooding form of Armadyne's CEO, who obviously, never waved back.

No droids bothered them on their way out of the factory. They had been called, and were situated all across the empty production floor, but none of the heavily armed robots seemed to have received any orders to obstruct their path. They were free to leave.

They took Dean's car, with her bicycle attached to the top, and returned the boy to his overjoyed and worried parents. The reunion heart breaking, as the parents could hardly believe their young son was out of danger. He was healed, and he was fine. A little riled up from his experiences, which had been a lot for a small child to take in, but nothing he wouldn't be able to get on top of in time. Brother and sister were invited in for dinner, but they kindly declined. Mira had to go home and lie down. Unlike Trevor, she was doing worse, and the weight of her sickness grew heavier each day. But her wish had been granted, and for that she was grateful, and as happy as she could be despite the current situation. For now she hoped, she never had to face John Carlyle again.

R&R


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The hot, noisy, and overcrowded hospital wasn't exactly what she had pictured as the ideal place to change worlds when the moment would come. But the simple fact was, she couldn't stay at her home, all by herself, for days on end anymore. Her brother and his kind wife both worked full days, their children tended to by an elderly couple that lived next-door. There was no place for Mira to stay and be tended to, other than the godforsaken medical facility that was their hospital. It was never quiet, not even at night, the lights in the hallways were always on, and brightly so. Sleep didn't come easy, and when it did, it was a light slumber, and it never lingered for long. Her brother had threatened and bluffed until they agreed to give her a separate room, and she was very grateful to have it. Most people in her condition, shared their rooms with atleast four others. She didn't even think her room was an actual hospital room. She had a slight idea it was also used as a storage room for brooms, cleaning appliances, bandages and such of the sort. But it was her own. And there was a door she could close whenever she wanted to shut out the rest of the world.

At night, she lay gazing at the spinning wheel in the sky. But unlike before, she no longer wondered if she ever crossed John Carlyle's brilliant mind. She knew she didn't. And if she did, it was in the form of him being relieved to be rid of her. Like he wanted to be rid of anything concerning this poor little planet. Her brother had told her Carlyle acted like nothing ever happened. Every day, he arrived at his factory, sat in his office behind bulletproof glass, and worked, and called, and gazed down at his rat poor workers with the very same contempt written allover his face like he always had. By the end of the day shift, he left, moved through the production floor of his factory, followed by his droids, to the launch bay, and was carried back to Elysium in his very own shuttle. She regretted knowing he had a different side to him, one he didn't dare to visit again. He committed himself to his business, and worked as hard as anyone, perhaps even harder. Nothing was too much for him. The rest was silence. The rest was secret. With Mira as his best kept secret yet.

She spend her days in the hospital reading stories to the children of the ward down the hall. Some of them she knew, they had attended the same school she had taught at, before her health forced her to resign. They sat on her bed, sometimes four, other times just two, and listened to her intently as she read from every book the children's ward possessed. And every evening, when dinner was served, her brother came for a visit. Straight from his work, he came to her, still wearing his Armadyne outfit. Sometimes, he brought the children with him, the two growing girls he worked so hard for. Other days, his wife accompanied him, bringing Mira dinner, treats and magazines from home. They stayed until visiting hours ended.

It was here that she was to wait for her end. And although she didn't want to die, she was grateful for the fact she was surrounded by loved ones, and a medical team that cared about their patients in a way she knew a med bay could not. After all, machines didn't care, like Carlyle had told her before. Perhaps med bays took away pieces of your own humanity every time they cured you. She wondered if, after all the times John Carlyle had used it, he had become part of the machines as well. He could be just as robotic as the droids protecting him. She lay floating between tired consciousness and a medically induced slumber. There was no pain anymore. Her chest had felt like it was going to burst, and her brother had fought long and hard with the doctors to raise her Miporal prescription. Five pills instead of three per day. It was the maximum dosage they could give her. Any more could lead to cardiac arrest. Any more would kill her instantly.

It was the end of her third week in the hospital. A long, dreary Friday. But Fridays meant a longer visit from her brother. He had requested if he could stop working during the weekends, so he could be with his dying sister in the hospital. The foreman didn't have high hopes this request would be granted. But it seemed the CEO of Armadyne still remembered Mira and her worried brother. His wish had been granted two days after it had been filed. Not even the toilet paper was refilled that quickly.

It was getting dark outside. There were no windows in her little room, but she always noticed how people somehow calmed down a little when night was falling. And the hallway behind her door had different lighting during the evening hours. The hospital would start smelling like food around dinner time, and children were being brought in to visit their sick parents, and keep them company while they spooned down the cheap meals the hospital provided. Her appetite had been gone for days, and the doctors blamed the high amounts of Miporal for it.

She was stirred from her restless half slumber when unusual noises erupted from the hallway. She had made most sounds her own by now, and she wasn't surprised or awakened by yelling, fighting and desperate pleading anymore. But this was the sound of droids marching down the hallway, and her brother being very angry about something. Barely conscious, she blinked slowly and gazed at the door half expecting to be somehow arrested for God knows what. Perhaps Carlyle had changed his mind, and had decided to show her just how ruthless he could be. It didn't matter anymore. If he wanted his droids to push her around, she would let them. There wasn't much about her that wasn't damaged yet anyhow. Seconds later, her brother, completely out of breath, burst into her room and shut the door behind him quickly. He leaned his back against the door and stared at his sister wide eyed in panic.

"Hey Dean." She mumbled, not able to stifle a chuckle at the state he was in. "What did you do?" it wasn't unusual for her brother to get himself into trouble and have droids follow him around allover the place to beat him into submission. Something that only paid off for the duration of his bruises to heal.

"You aint gonna believe this." Dean said, shaking his head. "Your boyfriend is having the whole hallway cleared out by his fucking droids so he can come in and pay you a visit."

She blinked at him for a while, feeling a headache come up. "I don't want to see him." she spoke softly, unable to raise her voice. "Tell him to leave."

"Yea, you go tell him yourself." Dean huffed. "I don't think he's taking no for an answer today, sis. He got six droids with him, and they mean business. They are shoving beds out of the hallway, cramping them all into little rooms, they even locked one of the doctors in his office. It's crazy." She said nothing, and closed her eyes tiredly, letting out a deep sigh. "He aint gonna listen to me." Dean continued. "And he made sure to look like it too."

At that moment, the door was pushed open, and Dean jumped away from it to avoid being knocked off his feet. Two black and gold coloured droids entered, securing the perimeter for their master. " _stand down, citizen"_ one of the droids told Dean as he was grabbed into a disarming hold, his arms behind his back. The other droid quickly fished for Dean's gun hidden between his belt and trousers. He was forced on his knees after that. _"Don't move"_ the droid told him. Shooting comforting glances at his sister, Dean underwent the treatment with more compliance than ever before.

When Carlyle stepped into the bedroom, holding a handkerchief to his nose, he signalled to the droids to let the young man go. "Let him.. go.. I'm sure he understands we form no threat to his sister." He spoke stoically. "Keep the gun." He told the droid who had disarmed Dean. Mira's brother was pulled to his feet, and he shook off the droid's metal grip mumbling his protests. Carlyle focused his attention back to the girl he came for, and gazed at her from the doorway with an empty expression. She could do nothing but stare back at him, doing her best to look furious at the way her brother had been treated.

"Mira.." the businessman said quietly, almost painfully. She looked away, indicating she didn't want anything to do with him anymore. "I sure do hope you fervently believe this suffering of yours will somehow benefit humanity. Because I cannot see the good in it." She looked at him angrily, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she refused to say something. "Anyway, I'm here to talk to you. Even if you don't wish to talk to me." He continued, and approached the bed. One of the droids quickly picked up on his master's intentions and shoved a chair to Mira's bedside, in which the CEO sat down, careful not to touch anything. "Mister Sullivan, could you leave us for a moment?" he asked without looking over his shoulder at her brother.

"Like hell I will." Dean huffed. "You're going to have to drag me out of here."

Now the Elysian businessman looked over his shoulder. "That can be arranged." He warned, and meant it. One of the droids walked up to Dean, ready for permission to throw the young man out of the room with brutal force. But it wasn't needed. One pleading look from his sister told Dean it had no use to resist, and he complied, not wanting to cause an uproar in front of his ailing sister. He left while one droid followed him out, leaving Carlyle alone with the young woman, and the other droid.

"Please tell me they won't hurt him." Mira pleaded softly.

"Of course not." Carlyle replied. "Not unless I tell them to. All I want is a talk with you in private."

She looked at the other droid guarding the closed door, his machine gun pressed against his metal chest. "Isn't he supposed to leave too?" Carlyle followed her gaze.

"I know how much you dislike them." He told her gently. "But I assure you. You could jump upon his back and he wouldn't hurt you."

"What if I jump upon your back?" she shot back at him. He gave her an amused smile, even though she wasn't trying to be funny.

"You haven't lost your sense of humour yet, I see." He chuckled softly. "Let's not try that out. I don't want all six of them to shoot into a frenzy about you trying to piggyback ride their employer." She still didn't see the hilarity of the subject, but she decided to drop it and let the man do his story so he could leave.

"What do you want, John?" she asked him tiredly, shaking her head in disbelief at his presence. "What do you want from me?"

"How's the child?" Carlyle asked, not yet ready to come to the point of his visit. "Were his parents pleased with the result?"

She stared at him blankly. "You mean Trevor? He's.. fine. I think. I haven't seen him in quite a while actually. His parents were very grateful." He nodded, although she could see it didn't interest him very much. "Why? Did he leave muddy footprints on your Persian carpets?"

He pursed his lips at the insult. "I do not own any Persian carpets, Mira." He told her sternly. "If you must know he broke an art piece worth over ten million dollars, but I never complained about that, did I?"

"Who spends ten million dollars on a piece of art, I ask?" she shot back.

"It was a gift." He shrugged. "I didn't have any attachment to it. I was just curious at how he managed to knock that heavy thing off its socket." He let out an almost nervous chuckle. "This is why Varela hardly dared to look at me when she returned the child. She was there when it happened and decided to just not tell me."

"Sweep it under the rug and forget about it." Mira said, feeling tired. "That's what you do when you got kids."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever do decide to have children. I'll purchase a rug just for that occasion." He tried to make her smile, like he had done before, and it worked, slowly but steadily. "Please don't be angry with me no more, Mira. I do not wish our last moments to be in contempt of one another. I saved the boy you wanted me to save, what else would you have me do? Save the whole world?"

"It's a start." She told him, her voice barely above a whisper. He gave her a defeated look. "You can promise me to be good to my brother after I'm gone. I'm afraid you will fire him the moment I die." He shook his head fervently.

"No, no. I will not dismiss your brother. I've already been very tolerant with him. He stole equipment a week ago, and I decided to just let it go. He blew up one of the machines, filling the entire factory floor with smoke, and I decided to let it go. And he tosses things at my window, sometimes hitting it, and I decided.. to let that go too." He explained, and watched in confusion as she burst out in chuckles. "What's so funny?"

"He never mentioned any of that to me." She laughed. "What.. what does he throw at your window?"

"Various things." He said, still figuring out why she considered this to be absolutely hilarious. It always gave him quite the scare when something suddenly clattered against the glass. "It was a screwdriver a few days ago." Her laughing increased. "Mira, I'll have you know that if he breaks that window he will pay for it himself."

Still chuckling, she shook her head. "And I'll have you know he has no means to pay for that. How much do you think he earns at your factory? Hardly enough to get his daughters through college." Her laughing had died down, and she gazed at him in exhaustion. "You could do that for me. Help him provide for his family. They deserve it, they're good people, no matter what you think of them."

"I think nothing of them." He answered dryly. "If you're requesting a pay raise for your brother, I can tell you I will accept under one condition."

She frowned. "And that condition is?"

He swallowed thickly and shifted in the hard chair, quite different from his comfortable desk chair at the factory. "It's Friday. It's.." He checked his golden watch. "7:25 in the evening. I'll be going home for the weekend, and I'll be back Monday morning. Will you come with me?" she stared at him like a deer in headlights. "You can stay at my home for the duration of the weekend, and I will personally return you to this hospital Monday morning."

"Have you lost your mind?" she asked.

He sat up a little and cleared his throat. "I do not think so. They tried their best, as you know, but I don't think it left any permanent damage. I'm quite serious, Mira. I won't force you to use a med bay if that's what you're worried about."

She huffed. "Then why would I go there in the first place? To sit under a palm tree and wonder what Heaven is like?"

He tilted his head at her comment. "I like to consider Elysium to be more than just med bays. The air is clean. The facilities at my home are.. significantly better than they are in this hospital. You don't have to cure yourself if you don't want to, but right now all you're doing is aiding your illness. Is that what you want?" she said nothing, and looked away from him. "Mira, you opened your home for me when I was injured. I want to return the favour. Are you going to deny me that?" she slowly turned her head to gaze at him. "How bad can it possibly be to spend a weekend on Elysium? You don't even have to interact with me if you so wish. I'll be in my office, and I won't get in your way."

"That's not it at all." She shook her head. "Why wouldn't I want to interact with you? I just wish you would offer this to someone more deserving, and more in need of it."

"Well I'm not going to invite your brother's wife and daughters if that's what you're thinking about." He chuckled. "I can already see that house just slowly burning to the ground. Everybody in a panic. I'll be somewhere inside it, tied to a chair with duct tape, burning alive." She frowned at the scary scenario he painted. "I'm offering it to you because you saved my life. And because I care about you, more than you realize."

She blinked at his small confession, her expression softening. "John.. what makes you so sure I can survive that trip up there? I've never been in a shuttle before. Won't that just worsen my condition?"

"I called doctor Campos yesterday to ask him that very question." Carlyle replied. "Aside from calling me everything I don't wish to be called, he also told me that he thinks you would survive the trip and.. he thought it was a good idea too." She shouldn't have given him that number, she mused. "I also brought something with me to make you feel better." He continued, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out a small metal box. He opened it to reveal a syringe filled with a light blue substance. "This is a very concentrated and intravenous form of Miporal. Quite costly, which is why hospitals don't use it."

She gazed at it in silence. "How much did that cost you?"

"Well, nothing. I own the factory that distributes it." He said sheepishly. "I also ran the medical research team that created it. So it's mine, and I give it to whoever I want." He got up from his chair, prepared the syringe with surprisingly skilled hands, and slowly injected it into the IV bag steadily pumping fluids into her system. She watched him do it, not really knowing how to respond. When he was done, he put the empty syringe back into its metal container and stuffed it back into his coat pocket. "You will feel better in a little bit." He told her, sitting back down.

"I will have to discuss this with my brother." She decided on saying. "He needs to know where I am. Or he will get worried."

"Yes, of course." Carlyle agreed, and turned toward the droid by the door. "Bring mister Sullivan to me." The droid left immediately to fetch Mira's brother and drag him away from whatever he was doing. Now completely alone, Mira felt like she had to say something.

"So I'll be sleeping on your couch then?" she tried to smile at him, despite him being the man that he was. If she was going to spend the weekend with him, she might as well try to make conversation.

"I have ten bedrooms." He remarked impassively. "You can try those out before deciding the couch is the best place to be for you." Ten bedrooms. The thought alone made her dizzy.

"What would you need ten bedrooms for?" she asked.

"Oh, crazy sleepover parties like we're about to have of course." His dry humour paid off and she burst out in nervous chuckles. "The ones that involve pizza and beer and lazing around in your underwear." Her laughing increased, getting him the result he wanted to achieve. He smiled at the girl cracking up in her gloomy hospital room.

"I thought there was no pizza on Elysium." She giggled.

"Ah, well. I did my research." For the second time, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a fancy looking fold out of a pizza restaurant she never heard of. "Turns out there is, in fact, pizza on Elysium." He continued, handing her the piece of paper. Still chuckling, she opened it to read the menu. "They deliver too. I'd like to see which neighbourhood brat got lucky with that job. I hope it's that teenager next door. The one that insists on calling me mister C, and never takes off his shades." He said.

"sixty dollars for a pizza?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Armadyne's CEO. "That's a little steep, isn't it?"

"It's on me." Carlyle answered. "Don't you worry about anything anymore for now. I owe you this."

At that moment, Dean opened the door and entered, followed closely by three droids. Catching up on the heavy mood in the small room, his gaze went from Carlyle to his sister. "What's up?" He asked. "You guys made amends or what?"

Ignoring the young man's very presence, Carlyle never ceased gazing at the young woman that saved his life. "I will increase his pay by 50%." He explained to her, and got up from his chair. "I'll leave the details of that arrangement up to you." Finally, he turned to her brother, facing him almost triumphantly. "You have ten minutes." He said coldly, and passed him by without another word. Dean frowned in confusion.

"ten minutes to beat yo ass, yea." He called after the Elysian, but the man didn't listen. "Yo, ten minutes for what, man?!" When no one offered any explanation, he turned to his sister. "The fuck is he talking about?"

Feeling nervous about breaking the news to her protective brother, she reached out for him to take her hand in his own. "Come here, Dean. Let me tell you something." He stepped up to the bed and took her hand. "I'm going away for the weekend." She started. "John offered to come and stay with him for a few days, you know, clean air is good for my lungs and all. And I said yes." Dean's facial expression was hard to decipher, and she knew the bomb was yet to explode. "I will be back Monday morning." she continued. "Dean…?"

"But what about..?" he started, looking at all the medical equipment she was hooked on. "All this shit? You can't go without it, can you?" she followed his gaze toward her heart monitor and her IV. The bag was almost empty, meaning the intravenous Miporal was almost entirely inside her bloodstream, and she was slowly feeling its working conduct taking effect.

"Maybe not here." She told him gently. "But up there it's a different environment. And he's got access to better and stronger medication." Her tough brother seemed on the verge of tears, not at all about to hand out his little sister to his ruthless employer, who never showed any interest in any living being beside himself.

"If I let you go up there with that sack of shit." He hissed through his tears. "You better come back fucking rid of this disease. You better spend a whole day in that fucking med bay of his, you hear me?"

She frowned at his stern words. "You know that's not what I want."

"To hell with what you want!" He spat. His hurt and despair speaking for him. "What about what I want?! The people around you, that love you?! You can't save everybody, Mira. But right now.. you can save yourself and I want you to do that." He roughly wiped away his tears with the back of his bare arm, wearing nothing but a tank top in this hot hellhole of a hospital. "I want you to use that bitch while he's still thinkin' he can waltz right in here and claim my sister!." She said nothing. "You got the power to make a better man out of him. But you can't do that when you're dead." He continued more calmly. "You think about that when you're up there facing that med bay and not using it. You think about all the people risking their lives to go there for that very same purpose. All the kids. All the parents that don't want their kids to be left behind. Think about that." He nodded to himself, and then leaned in to give her a quick kiss on her forehead, still sniffling.

The ten minutes were passed, and the droids and their employer returned to the room. Dean had said everything he wished to say anyway, and turned to Carlyle giving him the most dangerous looking glare the Elysian had ever seen. "You hurt her.." He started, holding up his tattooed finger. "You let anything happen to her, anything at all, and I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth to get you."

"She's going to Elysium. Legally. On my invitation." Carlyle remarked dryly. "What could possibly happen to her?"

"You just remember what I said." Dean said again. He peered over his shoulder to look at his tired sister one last time, before leaving.

"Mister Sullivan." Carlyle called after him, taking off his golden watch and tossing it at the young man, who caught the expensive thing mid-air. "You can contact her, at any time, with that." Dean didn't say anything, he played with it in his hands for a while, and looked as if he was about to smash it against the wall, but then stuffed it deep inside the pockets of his sweatpants before turning around and continue his way out.

"How are you feeling?"

Carlyle's question only slowly reached her while she followed her brother's path down the narrow hallway until she could no longer see him, then she forced herself back to what she was about to do and looked up at him. "Ehm.. Tired, actually. Very tired."

"Good." He answered, suddenly seeming a bit nervous. "I added a small sedative to calm you down during the trip. It's 20 minutes' worth of suffering in that cramped thing Bugatti dares to ask 23 million for." He complained haughtily.

"You what?" she huffed, feeling dizzy and disorientated. "You drugged me?"

"You said you're afraid of heights." Carlyle remarked calmly. "I don't want the journey to stress you out too much. Once you wake up, you'll be in Elysium."

" _Mister Carlyle, your shuttle is ready for departure."_

She could barely make out the droid's mechanical voice as her eyes suddenly felt heavy. The sounds and smells of the hospital died down, and she felt herself float toward the lamp above her bed. She barely felt herself being picked up by either Carlyle himself or one of his droids before everything went black.

R&R


End file.
